POETS ROOM

On a cool March night,
as I enter an old ice cream shop
with an old wooden floor.
The smell of yesterday fills my senses,
sending my thoughts back into the past
ordering my coffee with sugar and cream.

I see a group of people have gathered,
with one thing in common, one gets up and
starts reading poetry not just anyone's poetry,
their poetry.

People walk in off the street,
just to listen to the sound of their poems,
it is like music one after another...
it flows my soul feeds off the sounds...
Sounds that made us laugh,
yet others made us sad.

I feel the pain in them as well,
and some just make us think.
My mind can't understand them all the time,
but my heart knows them well.

An escape from the real world I know,
I must soon return.
Peace for a restless soul,
will always be found here.

Phoenix_arises
3-15-00

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